


Just Here to Fuck

by Candybara



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Rekka no Ken | Fire Emblem: Blazing Sword
Genre: Biologically female reader, Cunnilingus, F/M, Fingering, Hand Jobs, Lingerie, One Shot, Porn, Reader-Insert, Smut, Tent Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-24
Updated: 2018-05-24
Packaged: 2019-05-13 06:09:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,613
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14743409
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Candybara/pseuds/Candybara
Summary: There’s an oil lamp flickering dimly in the corner across from one very haphazard pile of your clothes, and the knowledge that you probably shouldn’t be here has you on high alert.





	Just Here to Fuck

**Author's Note:**

> Uhh I don’t know how to write “plot” and I haven’t played FE7 in like five years but Hector is still such a bae

There’s an oil lamp flickering dimly in the corner across from one very haphazard pile of your clothes, and the knowledge that you probably shouldn’t be here has you on high alert. Adrenaline, perhaps anticipation, too, keeps you more aware than you consider natural, and the longer you wait, the harder it is to ignore the apprehension that’s been steadily growing in the pit of your stomach. You do your best to swallow your nerves every time they come crawling up the back of your throat, but regardless, it feels downright _glacial_ as the minutes tick by, trickling down your spine like wax and leaving you clinging to the scraps of confidence that once had you high on the exhilaration of your recklessness.

It’s not even as though such a concept as acting sensibly has ever stopped you from being overtly brazen in the past, but you’re uneasy this time around, dishearteningly so, and it bothers you more than you’d be willing to let it if you had a say in the matter. Alas, an unfortunate habit, you always were better at asking for forgiveness than for permission, and though you’ve created some solace in convincing yourself that the corset cinched around your midriff really isn’t as bad as the cowardice that would otherwise come with bolting before it’s too late, it still takes most of your willpower to keep from flinching at the scuff of every footstep that feels just too close for comfort.

It’s not much better when the encampment turns quiet with the rising night, for as belated a concern as it is, in due course you find yourself with nothing to do but hope that no one will see your shadow through the canvas walls of a tent that definitely isn’t yours. Not that it would really matter at this point, but the thought of it leaves you warm in the face regardless.

Crossing your ankles, you wipe the sweat from your palms and take a breath that’s not meant to be as shallow as it is. You can feel your pulse throbbing under your skin, hot and loud, but it’s not intolerable, not like it could be. You aren't in love with Hector, at least not as far as you’ve been able to recognize, and that makes this much, _much_ easier, given that you’re now sitting in the middle of his bedroll for one reason and one reason only. It’s brash of you, certainly, but you’re on good terms with him and patience is ever eager to evade you.

Maybe that’s why you’re almost relieved when he finally steps through the front of his tent, ducking past the curtains that line its entrance and pausing immediately at the sight of you wearing less than would be considered decent under most circumstances. You peer up at him, and he peers down at you, and that’s all either of you can manage for what seems like an eternity. Then he glances about, noting a pair of axes and a set of armor among other belongings that are all unmistakably his, before turning back towards you, confusion set deep in the furrow of his brow.

“This is my tent,” he says, trying not to focus on the fact that you’re currently dressed in nothing but a corset. Your heart jumps into your throat, but you promptly shove it down, biting your lip to force back the disquiet rising in your blood. There’s not much to say, so you just look at him, praying that the heat dusting your cheeks with color isn’t nearly as noticeable as it feels.

He’s shirtless, his hair still wet from the lull he’d spent bathing in the river, and you’re staring too much, but he’s staring right back, so it’s only fair. His eyes flit from your face to the valley of your breasts, where they linger, and then to the bare stretch of your legs, where they linger even more. You cock your head slightly, finding motivation in the attention, and Hector runs his tongue through the seam of his lips as he takes a step forward, already halving the distance to his bedroll, and by association, to you.

There’s something knowing in his gaze, something determined, like he’s been waiting for this too, and you almost forget how to breathe as he kneels at your feet, planting his hands on either side of your hips and leaning in slow, close. You tilt back, slanting your spine to the ground, and he follows suit, hovering steadily over you, though he keeps enough distance to make your chest feel as heavy as the air between your frame and his.

“I can leave,” you blurt suddenly, thinking yourself an imbecile but knowing you would regret it if you weren’t certain. “I can leave… if you don’t want me.”

Hector laughs. “That’s what you have to say after going out of your way to seduce me like this?”

You swallow thickly as explanations and excuses alike come darting to the tip of your tongue, but instead you simply resign yourself to letting your head slope away from the stormy blue of his stare, which is seemingly intent on boring right through you. You’re blushing hard now, but Hector is unyielding as he tips your chin back into alignment, the warmth of his breath grazing your cheek so softly it has you wondering if any of this is truly real.

“Don’t even think about leaving,” he says, his voice rich and smooth, and at that moment, you really see no other option but to kiss him.

It’s all heat and desire swimming low in the pit of your stomach as your fingers lace through the damp wisps of hair at the nape of his neck, and you waste no time in pressing your mouth hotly to his, like you’ve been starved for his touch. He makes a sound of approval deep in his chest as you arch into him, and you can’t help but moan when he takes the opportunity to tug your bottom lip between his teeth, shifting closer to hike your thighs up and around the margins of his hips.

To his credit, the man doesn’t mess around, and you soon feel his hand skim the small of your back to tug at the lacing of your corset, fumbling with the knot for a considerable while before you grant him the pity of undoing it yourself. You toss the undergarment aside, already breathing heavily by the time Hector pulls away to admire how you lie beneath him, fervent, flustered. He inhales slowly and runs his palms over the swell of your breasts, his fingers dry, almost abrasive as they trace resolve along the surface of your skin. You hiss softly as he circles the tips of your nipples with calloused thumbs, but then it’s his tongue that’s stroking them hard, and you’re writhing against him shamelessly.

Your head rolls back along the edge of his bedroll as his lips tighten against your flesh, sucking firmly but not roughly, and it’s enough to draw a whimper out of you, shaky, slipping past the sigh that hitches in your throat. You retroactively bite your tongue, but Hector hums his satisfaction and your blood is hot, your core laden with lust as he nuzzles between your breasts, pressing his mouth to your midriff and smoothing his hands down the curve of your waist. He palms at your ass and your hips twitch against him, his groan rumbling through you like thunder.

“H-Hector,” you breathe, by now starting to feel unbearably wet. Your nails graze the base of his scalp, and you shudder as he lavishes kiss after kiss down the stretch of your abdomen, his mouth dipping lower, lower, tormenting you with need.

You nearly crush his head between your thighs when his lips finally press warm against your slit, licking relentlessly between your folds and sending pleasure thrumming up the length of your spine until you’re forced to bite your knuckles to keep even somewhat quiet. You can all but feel his smirk, smoldering like fire in your core as you moan into the back of your hand, but you’re too far gone to really care about anything but the way he flicks his tongue over your clit, the way he purrs against you, mouthing at your entrance so eagerly, so unabashedly.

You jolt slightly when he slides his palm up the inside of your thigh, pressing at the knee to coax your legs further apart before slipping two thick fingers into you. It takes you off guard, and he hums the instant you clench around him, hips bucking, seeping heat through the slick that coats his knuckles. You choke on a gasp as he strokes against your inner walls, and you’re all but trembling beneath him, but he doesn’t take it slow, which you’re admittedly grateful for. You normally hate being rendered so meek, but the friction is indescribable and it has you a breath away from bliss, thinking that you’re certain to melt every time Hector curls his fingers especially deep.

You’re so turned on it almost hurts.

“That’s… enough,” you manage with a sigh, partially lamenting the loss when Hector pulls back without question, but greedily craving more of him and finding that the hunger in his gaze leaves you downright _aching_ to be devoured.

It’s the same impatience as always that causes you to sit up and kiss him again, this time reaching down the front of his pants and feeling your chest swell at the shudder that wracks his frame. Your fingers trickle through the thin line of hair trailing down from his navel, and he groans heavily against your lips as you coil your palm around the head of his length, his flesh hot and sticky with arousal. You grip his shaft firmly and Hector doesn’t even bother trying to keep himself from grinding against you, letting your fist slide steady and smooth as you thumb along the underside, not quite slow, but not quite fast either.

His breathing escalates not long before he finally pries your hand away, and you hurry to help him strip bare, pressing flush and warm against him. He has you lie mostly flat, shifting first to angle his thighs under your hips, then leaning in to kiss along the hollow of your throat. You moan softly as his lips caress your neck, feeling yourself throb, nearly dripping between the legs, and you’re loath to admit that you’re borderline desperate, but you’re lucky enough not to have to, given that Hector’s already prodding against you.

“Ready?” he asks, though he doubtless knows what your answer will be. You nod, humming your assent with a careless smile, and thankfully, that’s all it takes.

He pushes into you fast, yet smooth, like ivory, and the stretch pulls a gasp from your chest before you have the chance to stop it, body torrid, heart hammering against your ribcage. You shudder as white heat branches under your skin, blazing in your core, and Hector’s breath wavers initially, but he finds his rhythm with ease and you can feel his strength through every press of his hips, solid, adamant as he rocks into you. Sweat glistens over his brow and the force behind his thrusts has you digging your teeth into your bottom lip, and before much longer you’re lightheaded enough to have to brace yourself by clutching at his forearms, only barely managing to hold back the string of whimpers lumped up in your throat.

Hector isn’t a man of restraint, nor one of limits, but he takes you with a raw sort of discipline that you didn’t know he had in him, that you wouldn’t have predicted even if he’d told you himself. Your expectations weren’t terribly high, though of course you didn’t think lowly of him either, but you’d prepared yourself for something empty, something hot and hard and messy, something carnal and rushed, something to leave you sore and achy in the morning sun but ultimately forgetting of the night before, not because it was unsatisfactory or regrettable, but because it was _just_ enough to quench your thirst, and nothing more.

And you would’ve been fine with that. Hell, you would’ve been _thrilled_ with that, but somewhere in the middle of it all you’d managed to forget that Hector also doesn’t half-ass anything _,_ and even though he knows that you’re only here for a fuck, he’ll be damned if he doesn’t make it worth your while.

You feel it in the pit of your stomach when he groans, low and breathy through gritted teeth, and it fills you with desire all over again, fierce, sultry warmth flooding through your veins, buzzing like lightning at your fingertips. His hips piston roughly and you’re outright moaning by the time he reaches up to part your lips with his thumb, pressing the pad of it to your tongue and grunting softly as you take it upon yourself to suck as hard as you can. His eyes are dark as the heavens at dusk and the taste of his skin is a welcome distraction, but he’s still pounding into you shamelessly and you aren’t sure how to ask him if he’s as close to coming as you are.

“You should’ve gotten my attention long ago,” Hector murmurs, slowing just a bit when he feels you tighten around him, and you whimper as the pressure in your core recedes with his pace. “If I'd known you wanted _this_ from me…”

You let him pull his thumb from your mouth, and a sigh ghosts out of you as he uses it to press friction over your clit, stroking jerkily back and forth. “Would you believe me if I said I tried?”

Hector looks very nearly astonished. “No! When?”

“Too many times to know where to begin.” Your smile hides a hint of teasing, but Hector chuckles anyway, bowing languorously over you until you can feel each humid puff of his breath warm the surface of your skin.

“I guess I’ll take your word for it, then.”

You gasp as he slants into you, firmly, driving his hips like it’s all he knows and not stopping even once, not until you’re tangling your fingers in his hair and trembling, curling in on yourself as you come around him. You muffle your moans at the last second, stopping just shy of biting as you press your mouth to the broad slope of his shoulder and simply ride out the pleasure gushing through you. Hector doesn’t take long to follow in your wake, and with a harsh groan and a shudder he’s spilling hot over your abdomen, his vision blurring as his lashes flutter against his cheeks and his chest heaving through the exertion of it all.

Your body falls slack as gratification melts into exhaustion, but you don’t let your eyes fall shut quite yet. You take a moment to sigh, sated, and Hector sighs with you, not in tandem, but mutually. Slowly, meaningfully, you catch your breath and he catches his, and the sweat that coats your skin is ardent and hedonistic and not at all noble or selfless, and it feels _good_. It feels the way it should, basking in the afterglow, and maybe it matters more that you ultimately share the same lust as him, to heft your weapon and fight until it’s too much, but when Hector falls asleep next to you, slinging an arm over your hip as if to say _don’t even think about leaving_ , it doesn’t feel intimate so much as it feels human.

Maybe that’s why you’re _really_ here.


End file.
